


If Love Is Food, You Are a Banquet

by bravinto



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bondage, Feeding, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My soul is full of love like my stomach is full of Twinkies”, or Newt wakes up to things going slightly out of character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Love Is Food, You Are a Banquet

**Author's Note:**

> credit to [ClassyFangirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl) for the inspiring conversation and to [lunarinferno](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarinferno) for the help with the Twinkies! :D  
> I only tag dub con because things start when Newt is asleep.

The feeling of warmth, gentle touches, being wrapped and unwrapped, and _rearranged_ ; a breathing presence close by, unnamed but familiar; soft whisper at his ear… Newton does not jerk awake like he often does; instead, he is surfacing slowly from the depths of sleep. Hermann, he smiles. It’s nice to be touched by Hermann; he might not even need to wake up any further, just let this pleasant sensation continue.

But Hermann is murmuring something, very quietly, and moving Newt’s limbs in a way that isn’t really self-explanatory; this – and an odd feeling on his wrists, – makes Newton curious, and curiosity… well, if Newton Geiszler were a Jäger, he would have a curiosity-powered core. He opens his eyes. 

The room is lit by the dim golden glow of the nightlight, darkness lingers in the far corners. In the honey haze Newton sees Hermann sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Hey, babe”, Newt croaks, his voice still raw. 

He can’t see very well without his glasses, but it looks like Hermann is smiling, and his hair is ruffled. Wait. Hermann wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon (or is it tomorrow already?..). A math con, or something… But here he is, dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, smelling of soap and hot water. Must’ve snuck in and changed quietly. Weird. Weird and freaky and exciting. 

“When did you come?” Newton asks. 

“I woke you up, darling, I am sorry”. 

As Hermann leans closer, Newton wants to spread his arms and give a huge hug to his dearly missed husband. This is when he finds out that he is tied to the bed. _Whoah_. He wriggles experimentally: black bands around his wrists and ankles are wide and soft and allow some movement; the position is comfortable; - looks like he could spend hours like this. Perhaps it means that he will. 

“What’s with the bondage, man?..” 

“I only want to love you, dear”, Hermann brushes a soft kiss on Newt’s temple. 

Hermann’s voice is low and soft and seductive. Surprisingly enough, recent discoveries and sensations get Newton’s dick only slightly interested. Is it too early for morning wood? Or too late? What time is it, anyway?.. 

“What time is it, anyway?..” 

Hermann’s hand slips under his old comfy T-shirt, caressing his belly. Newt lets out a quiet sigh of pleasure. 

“Do not worry about the time, love”, Hermann purrs. 

“Hnnnn, I don’t, it’s just… some plans…”

Well, his plans were mostly about cleaning the apartment before Hermann’s arrival (who would like to have to do the chores instead of awesome welcome home sex? Eh, there could be a compromise between the two, but it’s a fine balance, really), and maybe shopping and, perhaps, something else, he has to consult his notebook for to-do lists and schedules, the one he started keeping after the infamous drift. Seriously, his brain has experienced some bad Gottlieb contamination. Newt only hopes it is mutual. But he’s not lucid enough to think of it now, so huh. 

“Please relax, my dear Newton, everything is taken care of”. 

It sounds a little creepy, alright, but also uncharacteristically sweet. Herms is a big cutie on the inside, but usually in a grumpy, i-never-said-anything-of-the-kind way, rather than this overprotective i-will-care-for-you-so-hush-now way. But his cool slender hand feels very good on Newt’s too hot and slightly upset stomach; so Newton enjoys the massage, pondering on the circumstances. This is certainly some sort of roleplay, his fuzzy brain provides, and Hermann is leading the way. It’s not how he normally dominates, though. Hermann is usually cold and stern and unforgiving; he demands submission and respect; now, however, Herms doesn’t give any commands, doesn’t punish Newt for the lack of obedience. He just runs his hand up and down Newt’s torso gently and avoids answering any questions. 

“Could you give me my glasses, Hermie?” Newton asks to test his hypothesis. 

He also can’t make out the figures on the clock. 

“You won’t need them, honey”, Hermann murmurs. 

A curious part of Newton’s mind wants to explore this new Hermann: do some prodding, keep asking questions until he snaps; refuse to comply and see if there follows an old-Hermann-style punishment; or maybe even safeword him – technically, Newton has not agreed to any of this explicitly. But that part of his mind is still half-asleep and kinda lazy; and what is the best way to know the new creepily sweet Hermann if not just let him do his thing? Not to mention that this thing is fantabulously pleasant. 

It gets better when Hermann pushes the blanket all the way down and lifts Newt’s T-shirt, exposing as much of his tattooed body as possible. Hermann’s hands are everywhere, rubbing any trace of numbness from Newt’s arms (“Are you comfortable, darling?” “Mmmyeah”), tracing the ink lines across his torso and down his thighs, kneading soft flesh on his sides; and when they end up on top of Newton’s belly, not stroking, not pressing down, just being there for a minute, two minutes, Newt really pops a boner. 

“Your stomach is so soft, Newton”, Hermann sighs serenely, and Newt moans and squirms in response. “This is truly amazing”. 

Hell yeah, amazing, Newt thinks; stripped and bound, how can he be so vulnerable but feel so protected at the same time? Is it a mammal thing, showing the belly as a sign of trust? He tries to remember if Reptilia do that, but he can’t concentrate on it, because the overwhelming feeling of trust is making him high. 

Hermann is edging closer again, and Newt licks his lips, expecting a kiss, but there’s no kiss, just warm breath on his face. 

“I have a treat for you”, Hermann whispers. “Just a moment”. 

He gets up and leaves the room, and Newton whines at the loss of touch, a little. Hermann returns in a couple of minutes, something white in his hands. It is a mug and, by the sound of it, a paper bag. Hermann sits down and takes something out of the bag, bringing it close to Newt’s face. First, the smell – half-forgotten, familiar, - then, as he takes a bite, the sweet taste and the texture; spongy outside and gooey inside, this cannot be true, this is an honest-to-god…

“Twinkie! It’s a Twinkie, Herms, _by Jove_ ”. 

“I know, Newton”, there’s a smile in Hermann’s voice. “Another?” 

Of course, another. And another. Newt is not hungry, not really: he stuffed his face quite a lot last night, out of boredom; but Twinkies. How on Earth could Hermann get them? Twinkies have been out of market for ages. They are more like a vague memory of Newt’s youth; it’s endearing that Herms remembers this from their drift. 

“Where did you find them?” Newt asks, chewing on his fifth?.. sixth? He’s lost count. 

“I wanted to bring you something that you would enjoy, dear. There are many people in the United States who share your taste”. 

It makes sense, actually; these Twinkies are not wrapped in foil, but they are definitely fresh. They must be hand-made by enthusiasts overseas. Newt imagines underground Twinkie societies, not unlike Masonic lodges, and giggles. Or maybe some tough Twinkie bootleg? Did Hermann smuggle them in his baggy grandpa clothes? Well, even like that, Herms could have his way with all sorts of shady people if he needed something. Hell, he could be an evil mastermind if he wanted to. An armchair math wizard. Like Moriarty. Newt giggles again, because it sort of fits. 

“Are you even my Hermann?..” he asks. 

Hermann brings the mug to Newt’s lips and supports his head to help him drink. Delicate fingers brush his hair; it feels dreamy. Newt is slightly surprised to taste milk instead of tea. 

“Do you know many Hermanns?” 

“Hmm, no, but. You know. What if you’re a changeling, or something?.. And you’ll trick me into telling you all the secrets and allow Dominion to conquer us, you know?..” 

Newt is starting to babble, but ends up with another Twinkie in his mouth, fortunately, and he really can’t complain. He begins to feel quite full by now and Herms must’ve picked up on that, because he is rubbing Newt’s belly again, and it’s pretty much magic. 

“What’s your game, Moriarty?” Newton mumbles. 

Hermann only chuckles. Everything he’s been doing, that strange sweet manner, the tender words, the questions unanswered, the low, soft voice with a faint undertone of menace, let alone the bondage, - all of this screams false security. But there’s also true security?.. Because Hermann is safe. Hermann is the safest _anything_ in the world (given that he isn’t a changeling). These two feelings overlap and confuse; Newt is sleepy and dazed; it feels a bit like four hand massage, when you can’t keep track and focus; you just let go and stop thinking. 

“Please have another”, Hermann says. 

Newt hesitates for only a moment before accepting the next Twinkie. It’s been almost an eternity since the last time, might as well indulge a bit. 

“Another one, darling?” 

“Ooof”, Newton is feeling hot, and it’s getting harder to breathe. “Um, I’m kinda full, I think…”

“Maybe a little break, then”. 

Hermann leans down and kisses Newt, finally, _finally_. The kiss is just as soft and slow as this whole experience; Hermann explores Newton’s mouth thoroughly and gently, and when he withdraws, Newt moans. He’d love this to go on forever. 

“Quite a peculiar taste, these Twinkies”, Hermann comments. “I was curious”. 

“Wait, you haven’t even tried them yourself?” 

“I wanted to do it this way”, Hermann smirks. 

Kinky bastard. But that’s no news. Herms has one hell of imagination when it comes to sensual pleasures. He plants small kisses on Newt’s throat and murmurs something as he moves downward. He runs fingers through Newton’s messy hair; the other hand never leaves Newt’s stomach, rubbing slow circles. Newt strains against the ropes unvoluntarily, he wants to touch Hermann, too. 

“Shhh”, Hermann whispers and comes back up for the second kiss. “Would you like to have a Twinkie now, love?” 

“Yeah…”

He eats another one. His stomach feels heavy and stretched. He can’t say that he doesn’t like that. Still, he sighs when he’s offered a Twinkie again. 

“Oh, I dunno…” he says, panting. 

“What is it, dear? Are you uncomfortable?” 

“A bit. ‘s hard to breathe like this”. 

“Let me help”. 

Hermann lifts him and puts a pillow under his back. It’s easier to swallow this way. 

“Are you enjoying the treat, Newton?” 

“Wow, absolutely. Haven’t had Twinkies in ages… They taste like heaven, thanks man, you’re the best!” 

“Another one, then?” Hermann offers and adds, “For me?” 

Sure thing; he would eat a hundred just to please Hermann. Newt grunts quietly, he’s getting really stuffed (and also imploringly hard); but he’s rewarded with soothing belly massage. 

“How does it feel?” Hermann asks. 

“Heavy”, Newton answers. “And big. I feel big. Ugh, and it hurts a little. But when you rub my tummy, it’s good”. 

He hears a shaky inhale. Hermann is _loving_ it. Newt arches his back to get more rubs, and continues: 

“It’s like I’m a beetle, you know?.. On its back, can’t turn over… I feel so… exposed and awesome?.. Because I know you’re taking care of me…”

One of Hermann’s long fingers tickles Newt’s navel; the other hand slides down into his boxers and brushes lightly against his hard cock. 

“I am”, Hermann whispers and kisses him again, harder than before, but still very gently and slowly. 

Newton gives in to the moment. He’s always loved eating, but it was not a sexy thing before Hermann. Now, well… it is. He must’ve developed a reflex after the years of association with the kinky mathematician. Newt likes the pressure and the heaviness in his stomach, a perfect combination of pleasure and pain, as well as the heated blush rising on Hermann’s face when Newt’s clothes stop fitting. His partner’s affections were a good antidote to Newton’s body image issues… the perks of being in love with a pervy sex beast. This, and almost-smuggled Twinkies. This is all so good, he’s already aching to come. 

But Hermann is not touching him anymore, Hermann stands above him, one knee on the bed, and shrugs off his bathrobe. It turns out he’s not wearing anything underneath. He is very hard, though. Newton writhes and groans at the sight. 

“Tell me more”, Hermann’s voice quivers as he starts jerking himself off, “tell me how you feel, Newton”. 

So Newt describes in a not entirely coherent stream of words how full he is, and how high being this helpless and stuffed makes him; and maybe he mentions that he’s read somewhere that if you feed someone really well, you could murder them easily, because they can’t fight, so Hermann could really do _anything_ , and _anything_ would be cool with Newt, but this way, when Hermann is so loving and gentle, is the best. Newton means it, he would feel safer completely naked, with only Hermann’s hands to protect his vital organs, than in a full Jäger pilot suit. Which he might or might not mention, too. 

Hermann comes with a loud sigh all over Newt’s belly. Sperm is hot and white on his skin. Newton hisses, his own boner situation is becoming urgent. 

“Just a second, darling”, Hermann says. 

He grabs his phone from the nightstand and takes a picture before settling down beside Newt. 

“A photo?..” 

“I missed you badly while I was away, my dear”, Hermann murmurs and wraps his hand around Newt’s dick. “I want to have something for another time when we are apart”. 

The idea of Hermann masturbating in an anonymous hotel room to the picture of him tied to the bed, stuffed and covered in come makes Newt buck his hips. Hermann is pumping him harder and faster, and his words feel hot at Newt’s ear: 

“I will look at it and imagine I am back here with you. I love it when you are like this, Newton. When your stomach is soft on the surface and hard and bloated inside, when you are so eager. Waiting for my love. In need of my help…”

“Help me…” Newt manages to breathe out. 

Hermann twists his wrist he knows Newton loves best, and then Newt comes, and it’s so powerful he doesn’t even hear his own moans. Next thing he knows when the blissful fog clears out is that he is very sleepy. Perhaps he’s been sleepy all this time. Also there’s something cool on his belly: Hermann is wiping him with wet tissues. 

“I should untie you now”, Hermann says when he’s done with the tissues and reaches over to the knot at Newt’s wrists. 

“Herms, I... Please don’t. It’s… huh, it feels safer this way”, Newton mumbles. 

He doesn’t really know how to convey it, how to say that he doesn’t want this to end, that he’d like to take it into another day, to fall asleep while Hermann is still taking care of him. And he doesn’t have to. Hermann lies down and covers them both with the blanket. 

“Of course, dear”, he wraps his arms around Newt protectively. “I’ll keep you safe”. 

He holds Newton as if he is something precious, and now Newt wishes he could do the same; instead he revels in the feeling so strong that his heart aches. Or maybe it’s just his belly hurting because of too much food. His eyelids grow heavier, and he doesn’t feel like fighting it. He is certain, however, that when he wakes up in the morning, the _real_ morning, all of this will make perfect sense and he’ll figure out Hermann’s secret agenda. “My soul is full of love like my stomach is full of Twinkies”, he wants to say. What he actually says before falling asleep is: 

“Missed y’ too, Herms… rub my tummy s’more?..” 

**Author's Note:**

> title from a song by Blues Company.  
> (If you are curious about Hermann's secret agenda, there is one, but it's very simpe and innocent: he wanted Newton sleepy and confused so that they could have it slow and sweet.)


End file.
